


Make me go back (or maybe not.)

by Anonymous



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Out of Character, Sibling Incest, description of violence, nothing graphic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 02:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The universe decides to fuck with Jeremiah.OrJeremiah wakes up one day in a small bed, in a room he doesn't recognize and to a voicemail from Jerome.OrJeremiah wakes up in a dark room that isn't his own, a man sleeping next to him.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51
Collections: Anonymous





	Make me go back (or maybe not.)

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's three in the morning here and I don't know why I just wrote this. Apologies in advance for any mistakes, I'm just REALLY tired to look for them now. I'll just come back tomorrow and fix everything jdjskdkke.
> 
> Also, Jeremiah swears a lot.
> 
> Enjoy!<3

Jeremiah could swear he went to sleep all cuddled up with his brother, exhausted after trying to kill each other. For the third time that week.

It was good. Jeremiah couldn't sleep if he didn't drain all of his energy throughout the day and Jerome loved to play those kinds of games. It was a win-win situation.

So, why the fuck did he wake up in a small bed, in a ugly ass room that smelt like fucking flowers, with light green walls that made him want to throw up?

If this was one of Jerome's stunts, the little bastard could consider himself dead. For real this time.

He sat on the bed, noticing the glasses and the phone that were on the nightstand. He took the phone and unlocked it. He didn't have to put a password or anything.

(However owned this phone was a dumb bitch for sure.)

He went through the contact list. He stopped when he got to the 'J' and only one name was there.

Jerome.

Except, Jerome didn't own a phone.

A familiar feeling started bubbling on his stomach, traveling up to his chest, staying for a bit on his throat, making him choke, and then finally accumulating on his head.

_Jealousy._

Did his adorable brother had a secret phone? With secret contacts that he had been keeping from Jeremiah? Did he meet with other people behind Jeremiah's back?

Did he let other people breath near him? Did he let other people touch him?

_Fuck._ He wanted to kill. Kill Jerome. Keep all the other people away. Burn the entire planet.

Something like a bird's chirping suddenly resonated in the room, making him snap out of his thoughts. It was a text, telling him to call a certain number to listen to contact Jerome's voicemail.

And, well, curiosity killed the bitch, right?

He dealt the three digit number and put the thing close to his ear.

_"You have a voicemail from: Jerome." _Said an ugly robotic voice just before Jerome's voice could be heard.

_"Hey bro, it's been some time since we went out together! Are you in the mood? Call me!"_

He sounded so..._different._

Like Jerome, but without his body count, which he was so proud of. Like Jerome without the whore's abuse. So him, so _not_ him.

It unnerved Jeremiah. It made him feel anxious. It had been some time since something made him feel this anxious.

He quickly decided that something was very fucking wrong and that, no, he wasn't in the mood to go out with this weird version of his brother.

So he sent a quick text, writing _"I'm tired, long week. Sorry."_

He threw the phone behind him, listening as it bounced off the bed and fell to the floor. He couldn't care less.

How could he care about a fucking phone when his hands looked...normal?

The kind of normal that he wasn't supposed to have anymore. Pale skin, ligh hairs in his arms, a few freckles and-

He stood up and walked to what seemed to be a huge ass mirror glued to the door of the closet.

He was a normal looking mother fucking red head man. With dark green eyes and freckles that went all the way up his neck and to his face.

_Oh, no. Oh, no._

Wait. What-

He couldn't keep himself from screaming as he looked at his reflection.

-

He didn't even know for how long he had been sitting there, on the same fucking bed he had woken up in.

A little inspection of the house showed him the little framed pictures that were all around the living room.

He saw Jerome, smiling big, innocent, dorky. No hint of murderous anger in his beautiful eyes.

And he saw himself, smiling awkwardly and their mother. Yes, the bitch herself.

Hugging him and Jerome? _Sober?_ Not being a fucking nasty bitch? A proud smile on her face? Her hair neatly styled, make up done flawlessly?

It had been too much for him.

He had gone back to the bed and stayed there.

It was all so fucking weird.

Why was he there? Why wasn't Jerome there with him?

He looked for the phone under the bed and called Jerome.

Having Weird Jerome was better than not having Jerome at all.

"Miah? I've been texting you for a while! You shouldn't overwork yourself!"

_Oh..._

It had been a while since he heard Jerome call him that. He usually just called him 'Jeremiah' or 'fucking asshole'.

It was...comforting. in a way he didn't understand.

"Hey, Jer. Can you come over? I need some cuddles"

He didn't know if this Jerome was as fine with cuddles as his Jerome. He hoped he was.

"Of course! I'll even cook for you! You sound so tired...wait for me, yeah?"

He somehow forgot how to breath, how to speak, how to function. He swallowed down with some difficulty.

"Miah? You still there?"

"Yes, yes" he sniffled. Fuck. Why was he crying? "I'll- I'll wait for you, Jer. Don't take too long."

"No. Oh, no. Why are you crying? I'll be there in ten minutes! Love you, Miah!"

Jerome hung up before Jeremiah could say his 'i love you, too". It was, admittedly, a little shocking that Jerome could tell that he was crying even if he just said a few words.

He felt bad.

Not bad as in bad because of the diarrhea that came every time he accidentally ate the expired yogurts Jerome left on the fridge.

And certainly not the kind of bad he felt every time he punched Jerome to almost unconsciousness, just because he wanted to fuck but Jerome wanted to play one of their dangerous games, that Jeremiah ended up winning more often than not.

He felt the kind of bad that left a bitter taste in his mouth, a huge fucking hole in his chest and made him want to scream and cry and hug Jerome.

Hug him for nothing more than comfort. Not to hold him down when they played, not to keep him in place at night when jealousy reached a point where Jerome couldn't even move from his tight embrace.

Just for the proximity, just to not to feel so lonely.

He had spent several minutes crying into his hands when he heard loud knocks on the door.

He stood up quickly and passed the living room to reach the door.

There stood Weird Jerome.

He was as tall as Jeremiah, his long hair styled back, the emotions in his eyes shifting from excitement to worry in a second.

"Miah! Are you okay?"

This Jerome hugged him gently, rubbing his cheek to Jeremiah's, just like he did when they were kids.

Jeremiah just couldn't fucking take it. He circled his arms around Jerome's waist tightly, not wanting this to end. He wanted Weird Jerome to hug him forever.

This Jerome smelt like cheap soap and some weird ass apple smelling shampoo.

He smelt like fucking paradise compared to his Jerome, whose only permanent scent was the one of drying blood.

They stood there for bitch knows how long. Jeremiah didn't care. Jeremiah could only care about the way Weird Jerome was humming a song only he knew, running his hands through Jeremiah's hair with a rare gentleness.

"It's okay, Miah...do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. He couldn't afford to fuck this up. He couldn't lose Jerome. Not now, not then, not ever.

Surprisingly, this Jerome held an impressive amount of patience within him and just chuckled in a weirdly fond way.

"It's okay. We can hug for as long as you want"

Okay, but that was the most perfect sentence he had ever heard from Jerome.

He held Jerome even tighter, if that was even possible, and rubbed his face on Jerome's jacket.

When Jerome pulled away and grabbed the sides of Jeremiah's face delicately, he swore he could melt at the way Jerome was looking at him.

"I don't know what's wrong but don't worry, I don't have to" he whispered, rubbing his thumbs on Jeremiah's temples "look at you, I just want to hug you all day!"

"Uh, nothing's holding you back from doing it, you know"

Jeremiah cleared his throat. Damn, he was sounding fucking broken.

"That would be true, except, I promised I would cook for you" said Jerome, completely pulling away to take his jacket off and leave it on the couch. "So, what do you want me to do for you?"

_Maybe suck my dick._ He thought.

Yeah. _No_. This Jerome wouldn't allow that and Jeremiah was suspecting he wouldn't have the heart to beat this Jerome up, nor did he think this Jerome would take any pleasure from it.

"Pancakes?" He said instead.

Weird Jerome smiled big and dragged him to the kitchen.

Jeremiah never saw Jerome look so domestic and never tasted anything as good as this Jerome's pancakes.

-

Jeremiah woke up.

The room was dark and when his eyes adjusted to it, he saw a fancy looking chair in one of the corners of the room and dark colored curtains.

He didn't remember putting those things in his room.

He frowned in confusion and slowly sat on the bed.

He looked at his side and saw a body.

A body. A man. In his bed.

He screamed out in horror, fighting with the sheets to get out the bed and far away from the stranger.

"Who are you?!"

The man stirred and whined before sitting on the bed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He sounded awfully familiar but at the same time not quite. Jeremiah took two steps away from the bed.

"Jeremiah, come back to the fucking bed or I'll fucking kill you"

"Who- who are you?"

The man whispered something like "the fuck?" And turned on a big lamp that was on the floor, just next to Jeremiah's bare feet.

"It's Jerome, dumb fuck. Who did you think it was, queen Elizabeth?"

Now that the room was being illuminated by the lamp, he could see the man's face more clearly.

He had a weird hairstyle. Short on the sides and long in the middle, messy from sleeping.

His hair was red, he had a few freckles on his face and chest. His face...

It was horribly scarred.

Jeremiah could feel his heart drop to his stomach.

"Jer- Jerome?"

"No. Lisa Simpson, who's this?

Jerome laughed quietly at the joke Jeremiah couldn't even begin to process. He didn't know what happened to his brother but it made his insides crumble.

He felt the need to hug him.

And he did just that, kneeling on the bed and putting his arms on Jerome's shoulders, around his neck.

Jerome tensed and violently pushed him away.

"The hell do you think you're doing?"

"Showing a-affection?" He stuttered, bringing his hands up to play with his fingers.

Why was Jerome acting so weird? Last time Jeremiah checked, he loved affection and hugs to the point of being a little annoying.

"Fucking gross" spat out Jerome.

Then he stood just in front of Jeremiah and smiled widely.

"Do it again"

Jeremiah just frowned and hugged his brother tight, closing his eyes and letting out long, deep sighs to keep himself from crying.

Jerome didn't hug back, his arms firmly pressed to his sides.

Jeremiah pulled back just enough to look at Jerome in the eye.

"I'm sorry. Whatever happened to you, whatever you did...I'm sure you didn't deserve this"

Jerome chuckled.

"What- what are you even talking about? You know what I did to deserve this"

Jerome sounded genuinely confused, a little entertained even. Like Jeremiah was mocking him, joking around.

"Nothing-" Jeremiah stopped himself to swallow down the tight knot in his throat "nothing you could ever do excuses the pain you obviously went through" he said, carefully running the pad of his fingers over the scars on Jerome's forehead.

-

Jerome found something foreign on Jeremiah's eyes.

The dude had woken up being weird, acting like he didn't know Jerome and shit.

But maybe it was for the better.

Old Jeremiah didn't hold that hint of pure, intense love in his eyes. New Jeremiah so obviously did.

Old Jeremiah never touched his scars like that, only scratching them when he wanted Jerome to hurt real bad. He enjoyed it, sometimes. The pain.

But this was a very welcomed change.

He just looked into new Jeremiah's eyes, finding worry and sadness and love. They were so close...

Jerome could just move a few inches forward and test if new Jeremiah's kisses were different.

"Hey, lil' bro..." he whispered.

Jeremiah just whimpered as a response.

"Can I kiss you?"

This Jeremiah, looking as vulnerable as ever, nodded slowly, his lower lip sticking out in the most adorable pout Jerome had ever seen his brother make.

Old Jeremiah was a huge pain in the ass to be around and, don't misunderstand Jerome, he would miss that little bastard, but Jerome found that he didn't mind the change.

He kissed new Jeremiah, making him shiver.

Inexperienced, innocent, shy, _honest_. Jerome smiled into the kiss.

New Jeremiah tasted like a blank canvas that Jerome would color with time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Edit: so I was proof reading this and just noticed Jeremiah called himself a dumb bitch???????? I just can't stop laughing hshajduskjdjsnankamandnxna


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